The Conference Is Over

Say goodbye, my band of brothers,
As we mime the final hymns -
How it breaks our voice to leave you
As your television dims.

We vowed to lead your country
To a future free from guile:
Now The Conference Is Over,
We can wash away our smile -

Like the dumb, our mouths were twitching,
And we preened to your applause,
But our new suits need re-stitching,
And the mothballs line our drawers.

Now our platitudes are quoted,
And our pie is in your sky,
For The Conference Is Over.
Vote for us, and don't ask why.

From the book Tony Blair Reminds me of a Budgie

with apologies to The Seekers